Grandma's Hands

Grandma, some ninety plus years, sat feebly on the patio bench. She didn't move, just sat with her head down staring at her hands..

When I sat down beside her she didn't acknowledge my presence and the longer I sat I wondered if she was OK.

Finally, not really wanting to disturb her but wanting to check on her at the same time, I asked her if she was OK. She raised her head and looked at me and said. 'Yes, I'm fine, thank you for asking,' she said in a clear strong voice.

'I didn't mean to disturb you, grandma, but you were just sitting here staring at your hands and I wanted to make sure you were OK,' I explained to her.

'Have you ever looked at your hands,' she asked. 'I mean really looked at your hands?'

I slowly opened my hands and stared down at them. I turned them over, palms up and then palms down. No, I guess I had never really looked at my hands as I tried to figure out the point she was making.

Grandma smiled and related this story:

'Stop and think for a moment about the hands you have, how they have served you well throughout your years. These hands, though wrinkled shriveled and weak have been the tools I have used all my life to reach out and grab and embrace life.

'They braced and caught my fall when as a toddler I crashed upon the floor.

They put food in my mouth and clothes on my back. As a child, my mother taught me to fold them in prayer. They tied my shoes and pulled on my boots. They held my husband and wiped my tears when he went off to war.

'They have been dirty, scraped and raw, swollen and bent. They were uneasy and clumsy when I tried to hold my newborn son. Decorated with my wedding band they showed the world that I was married and loved someone special.

They wrote my letters to him and trembled and shook when I buried my parents and spouse.

'They have held my children and grandchildren, consoled neighbors, and shook in fists of anger when I didn't understand.

They have covered my face, combed my hair, and washed and cleansed the rest of my body. They have been sticky and wet, bent and broken, dried and raw.. And to this day when not much of anything else of me works real well these hands hold me up, lay me down, and again continue to fold in prayer.

'These hands are the mark of where I've been and the ruggedness of life.

But more importantly it will be these hands that God will reach out and take when he leads me home. And with my hands He will lift me to His side and there I will use these hands to touch the face of God.

I will never look at my hands the same again. But I remember God reached out and took my grandma's hands and led her home. When my hands are hurt or sore or when I stroke the face of my children and husband I think of grandma. I know she has been stroked and caressed and held by the hands of God.

I, too, want to touch the face of God and feel His hands upon my face.

(source: another e-mail from Aunt Peggy)

Pastor and his Son

Every Sunday afternoon, after the morning service at the church, the Pastor and his eleven year old son would go out into their town and hand out Gospel Tracts.
This particular Sunday afternoon, as it came time for the Pastor and his son to go to the streets with their tracts, it was very cold outside, as well as pouring rain. The boy bundled up in his warmest and driest clothes and said, 'OK, dad, I'm ready.'

His Pastor dad asked, 'Ready for what?'

'Dad, it's time we gather our tracts together and go out'

Dad responds, 'Son, it's very cold outside and it's pouring rain.'

The boy gives his dad a surprised look, asking, 'But Dad, aren't people still going to Hell, even though it's raining?'

Dad answers, 'Son, I am not going out in this weather.'

Despondently, the boy asks, 'Dad, can I go? Please?'

His father hesitated for a moment then said, 'Son, you can go. Here are the tracts, be careful son..'

'Thanks Dad!'

And with that, he was off and out into the rain. This eleven year old boy walked the streets of the town going door to door and handing everybody he met in the street a Gospel Tract .

After two hours of walking in the rain, he was soaking, bone-chilled wet and down to his VERY LAST TRACT. He stopped on a corner and looked for someone to hand a tract to, but the streets were totally deserted.

Then he turned toward the first home he saw and started up the sidewalk to the front door and rang the door bell. He rang the bell, but nobody answered.

He rang it again and again, but still no one answered. He waited but still no answer. Finally, this eleven year old trooper turned to leave, but something stopped him. Again, he turned to the door and rang the bell and knocked loudly on the door with his fist. He waited, something holding him there on the front porch!

He rang again and this time the door slowly opened. Standing in the doorway was a very sad-looking elderly lady. She softly asked, 'What can I do for you, son?' With radiant eyes and a smile that lit up her world, this little boy said, Ma’m, I'm sorry if I disturbed you, but I just want to tell you that JESUS REALLY DOES LOVE YOU and I came to give you my very last Gospel Tract which will tell you all about JESUS and His great LOVE.'

With that, he handed her his last tract and turned to leave. She called to him as he departed. 'Thank you, son! And God Bless You!'

Well, the following Sunday morning in church Pastor Dad was in the pulpit. As the service began, he asked, 'Does anybody have testimony or want to say anything?'

Slowly, in the back row of the church, an elderly lady stood to her feet. As she began to speak, a look of glorious radiance came from her face, 'No one in this church knows me. I've never been here before. You see, before last Sunday I was not a Christian. My husband passed on some time ago, leaving me totally alone in this world. Last Sunday, being a particularly cold and rainy day, it was even more so in my heart that I came to the end of the line where I no longer had any hope or will to live. So I took a rope and a chair and ascended the stairway into the attic of my home. I fastened the rope securely to a rafter in the roof, then stood on the chair and fastened the other end of the rope around my neck. Standing on that chair, so lonely and broken-hearted I was about to leap off, when suddenly the loud ringing of my doorbell downstairs startled me. I thought, 'I'll wait a minute, and whoever it is will go away.'

I waited and waited, but the ringing doorbell seemed to get louder and more insistent, and then the person ringing also started knocking loudly.

I thought to myself again, 'Who on earth could this be? Nobody ever rings my bell or comes to see me.' I loosened the rope from my neck and started for the front door, all the while the bell rang louder and louder.

When I opened the door and looked I could hardly believe my eyes, for there on my front porch was the most radiant and angelic little boy I had ever seen in my life. His SMILE, oh, I could never describe it to you! The words that came from his mouth caused my heart that had long been dead, TO LEAP TO LIFE as he exclaimed with a cherub-like voice, 'Ma'am, I just came to tell you that JESUS REALLY DOES LOVE YOU .' Then he gave me this Gospel Tract that I now hold in my hand. As the little angel disappeared back out into the cold and rain, I closed my door and read slowly every word of this Gospel Tract. Then I went up to my attic to get my rope and chair. I wouldn't be needing them any more.

You see-- -I am now a Happy Child of the KING. Since the address of your church was on the back of this Gospel Tract, I have come here to personally say THANK YOU to God's little angel who came just in the nick of time and by so doing, spared my soul from an eternity in hell.'

There was not a dry eye in the church. And as shouts of praise and honor to THE KING resounded off the very rafters of the building, Pastor Dad descended from the pulpit to the front pew where the little angel was seated. He took his son in his arms and sobbed uncontrollably. Probably no church has had a more glorious moment, and probably this universe has never seen a Papa that was more filled with love & honor for his son. Except for one.

Blessed are your eyes for reading this message.

(source: Peggy Harris)

The Triple Filter

In ancient Greece (469 - 399 BC), Socrates was well known for his wisdom.

One day, the great philosopher came upon an acquaintance who said excitedly, "Socrates, do you know what I just heard about one of  your students?"

"Wait a moment," Socrates replied.  "Before telling me anything I'd like you to pass a little test. It's called the Triple Filter Test."

"Triple filter?"

"That's right," Socrates continued "Before you talk to me about my student, it might be a good idea to take a moment and filter what you're going to say.  The first filter is Truth.  Have you made absolutely sure that what you are about to tell me is true?"

"No," the man said, "actually, I just heard about it and ..."

"All right," said Socrates.  "So you don't really know if it's true or not.  Now let's try the second filter, the filter of Goodness.  Is what you are about to tell me about my student something good?"

"No, on the contrary ..."

"So," Socrates continued, "you want to tell me something bad about him, but you're not certain it's true.  You may still pass the test though, because there's one filter left: the filter of Usefulness.  Is what you want to tell me about my student going to be useful to me?"

"No, not really."

"Well," concluded Socrates, "if what you want to tell me is neither true, nor good, nor even useful, why tell it to me at all?"

(source: Peggy Harris)

Attitude is everything!

Be kinder than necessary, for everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle..
Live simply, Love generously, Care deeply, Speak kindly, and Pray continually.

Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass... It's about learning to dance in the rain.

It's not what you gather, but what you scatter that tells what kind of life you have lived.

Life is too short to wake up with regrets, Love the people who treat you right and pray for the ones that don't.

Today may there be peace within you and May you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be.

(author: unknown)

Wear & tear

The older things get, the greater the wear and tear. At least that seems to be true with this aging body of mine; however, I wonder if that saying is true for other things -- for example, wine. My understanding is that the older the wine, the better it is! Am I better because I'm older? I know my lower back aches more and more with each passing day.

They say swimming is good for you. I enjoy it and feel good while I'm doing it. In fact, I swim 1/2 a mile a day at least three times a week. Some weeks I get in four days and on that rare occasion, I sometimes swim 1/2 mile a day five days a week. Almost always though, the next day my body -- actually my lower back -- is stiff. Maybe that means I should be doing some stretching exercises in the morning to loosen the muscles. I guess I could ask my doctor but that seems like a waste of his time. He has more serious things to take care of -- doesn't he?
 

Perhaps I should just suck it up and keep on pushing. I hate to hear people whining and complaining -- that includes me. There are people out there who have it a lot worse than I do.

C'est la vie!

Alex Howard

On March 25th I went to the funeral of my friend Jimmy Scott. Six days later (March 31st), I delivered the eulogy for my friend Alex Howard. Today is a month later but the memory is fresh.

In many ways, they were alike -- i.e., loving husbands. In other ways, they were unique -- i.e., one predeceased his wife, the other didn't.

I'm always reminded when I deliver a eulogy that "The Lord givieth and the Lord takeith away -- Blessed be the name of the Lord." We live for a relatively short time on the face of this earth; however, the time we spend here is an accumulation of memories. My memories of Alex -- and his wife Helen -- are fond memories of friends and times gone by. Memories of love & affection.

Thank you Lord for all that you have done. For the experiences and the friends. The living and the dead! I thank God for all of the blessings he has placed in my life and for my friend--Alex Howard!

Jimmy Scott

Today my friend Jimmy Scott will be laid to rest. I need to get ready to go to the viewing and then the services. I used to spend time with Jimmy and his wife when my wife and family were in Alabama before they moved here to join me in South Bend. Usually it would be on a Saturday or Sunday afternoon after church. I wanted to find some appropriate story or poem to post in his honor today, but I couldn't find one in my files. I couldn't let this day go by unrecognized so that is why I'm writing this. This is for the memories of a great person who befriend a fellow who was and still is searching. Jimmy, I'll miss you my friend! I am sorry I didn't make time in recent years to stop by and see you. To spend some time with you like I used to. That is water over the damn now but someday, we will meet again in God's Kingdom and be able to reminisce about the time we shared and spent together. Rest my friend, rest.